


crash into me

by hexmionegranger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (kind of - it depends where your line is I guess), Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Bureaucracy, Choking, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Gags, Infidelity, Light BDSM, Ministry of Magic, PWP, Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Witty Banter, dom!percy, healthy BDSM, inappropriate use of suspenders, sub!Pansy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 23:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexmionegranger/pseuds/hexmionegranger
Summary: Pansy snatched the papers from his hands and ducked her head slightly, hoping she could get past the man by the door without her blush being spotted. As she reached the door, she chanced one more glance back at the desk. Percy was still sitting behind it and to anyone else he would look almost no different. But she could see the way his eyes burned, the very slight flush that dusted his cheekbones, the strain in his shoulders and neck, and the fact that one of his hands was balled in a tight fist. She had never realized before how much she wanted to undo him, or how much it would pull at her when he was finally undone.





	crash into me

**Author's Note:**

> _you've got your ball, you've got your chain_   
>  _tied to me tight tie me up again_   
>  _who's got their claws in you my friend_   
>  _into your heart I'll beat again_   
>  _sweet like candy to my soul_   
>  _sweet you rock and sweet you roll_   
>  _lost for you I'm so lost for you_
> 
> _you come crash into me_  
>  _and I come into you_  
>  \- dave matthews band

“Yes, yes, come in,” came the voice from the other side of the large wooden door. Pansy nearly rolled her eyes at how distracted he sounded, but what else was new with him? Reaching up she pushed open the large door and stepped inside the office.

He didn’t even look up.

Pansy sighed almost irritably and stalked over to his desk, her heels clicking against the wooden floor, and dropping a pile of papers on top of the document he was clearly currently in the middle of reading. Finally, he lifted his head and his sharp blue eyes met hers and she forced herself not to shudder.

There had always been something about his eyes.

“Miss. Parkinson,” he gritted out, clearly forcing his normal composure despite her obvious attempts to frustrate him.

“Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” Pansy replied, dragging a grin to her face and driving an unusual chipperness into her voice.

Percy groaned and she watched as he lifted a hand to rub at his face, but the brief moment of annoyance was gone almost as quickly as his hand returned to the desk. She couldn’t help but catch her eyes over the simple metal band around his wedding finger and wondered, not for the first time, who would marry _him_?

“What can I do for you today, Miss. Parkinson?” his tone was clipped and he glanced once back down to his desk, a purposeful reminder that he was _busy_ and she had interrupted him. Everything he did had a purpose, Pansy had learned that quickly.

“Well,” she began, dropping down into one of the chairs across from his desk. “As you know,” she spoke, dragging her voice out as though she was explaining something to someone very thick, “ _you_ are the Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Transportation-”

“I’m aware of my own title,” Percy interjected, but Pansy didn’t stop.

“And _I_ am simply a titleless employee, a hard working member of the Department who is-”

“ _Interrupting me_ , Miss. Parkinson,” Percy tried again, glancing pointedly back down at his desk.

“Which _means_ ,” Pansy pressed, narrowing her eyes at him. “In order to get absolutely _anything_ done around here, I need your... approval.” Her eyes flicked down to his hand once more, pausing for a second to note that he had _quite_ long fingers, and then she glanced over to the quill which rested beside the pile of papers.

Percy sighed, and he reached down to adjust the cuffs of his suit jacket. Ever since the Ministry had relaxed a bit about dress code, Percy Weasley had worn nothing but three piece suits.

Every. Single. Day.

Pansy had watched him adjust the jacket cuffs more times than she could count, but she knew it was a positive sign. In the process, he always checked his watch - a _muggle_ one with a thick leather band - and determined that yes, he did have time to skim through the documents and provide his signature.

Pansy had been with the department for six months, and they had each fallen smoothly into the rhythm of their strange bureaucratic dance. She was interrupting him, she had to explain what she needed, he fussed about being _busy_ and _important_ , and then Pansy made an off-handed and not entirely un-flirtatious remark about requiring his _approval_ , or about being _good_ , or wanting to _please him_ with her documents, and then. Then he signed.

It had gotten to the point where nearly everyone in the entire department knew that if you needed Percy Weasley’s signature, Pansy was the best person to send in for the job. Usually, he took the papers and shooed away the employee, adding them to the bottom of an endless to-do pile. One was lucky to have their work back within the next week.

Pansy, when he had attempted this, had scoffed and sat in the chair and announced that she would not be leaving until they were signed and in her hands. She couldn’t start the next phase of her project without his approval, and he learned very quickly that she could be _very_ persistent, when she wanted to be. 

Today was no different, and she lounged in the comfortable chair while she watched him skim over the documents, shaking his head, adding some notes on the sides with quick flicks of his wrist. She examined the photo on his desk, of him and Audrey smiling brightly for the camera. As she looked at it, she was struck with the thought that they looked so… _mismatched_. Percy was tall, sharp angles and hard eyes and a set to his spine that rang as confident and intimidating and _smart_. Audrey was short, soft curves, a round face and sweet eyes. Pansy tried to picture them, Audrey grinning and making dinner, Percy - even unwound - commanding the air around them and holding himself back to not be too much for her.

She wasn’t entirely sure where the image had come from, not sure why despite what she told herself she couldn’t help but think it true. Perhaps, she tried to reason with herself, it was just that she was so put off with the thought that _Percy Weasley_ was probably getting laid on a regular basis, and she couldn’t find a single man who could scratch _any_ of her itches.

* * *

 

“Honestly, Daphne,” Pansy half whined, slouching forward over the small table she was sharing with her best friend. “It’s just not _fair_.”

Daphne nodded sagely, lifting her wine to her lips and taking a small sip. 

“I mean,” Pansy continued, “even your _little sister_ is getting married, for fucks sake. You’ve got Theo, and Draco has Astoria, and, fuck, even _Blaise_ is screwing around with girl-Weasley. And what have I got?”

“What happened to,” Daphne paused, clearly trying to remember the name of the last man Pansy had slept with. “Michael?”

Pansy groaned and took a large gulp of her wine. “Honestly, he was fucking _useless_.” she mumbled, setting down her glass and drawing a finger around the edge of it sullenly. “I just want to find a man who doesn’t _bore_ me half to death, you know?”

Daphne nodded again. “That’s quite important. Seeing as if you’re dead, I’d have to drink by myself.”

Pansy snorted out a laugh. “Honestly, is it too much to ask for to find _someone_ who could, I don’t know, tie me up and slap me around a little and give me a mind-blowing orgasm or two? At this point I don’t even _care_ if he’s taller than me.” 

Daphne reached out to pat at Pansy’s hand consolingly. “You probably shouldn’t drop your standards much lower than that, love.”

“I know,” Pansy sighed miserably. “Isn’t that my problem, though?” 

The witches returned to their drinks, managing to shift the conversation away from Pansy’s abysmal love life and more towards Daphne’s terrible job. She’d wanted to design clothing, and wasn’t actually half bad at it. The problem was, of course, that she was struggling to be taken seriously. Pansy had suggested a job at the Ministry, at least for the time being, to keep her occupied and potentially lend her a little more credibility. Unfortunately, the only department that had been hiring was the Department of Magical Records Keeping, and if Pansy thought regulations about broomstick length were boring, she had another thing coming.

“You know,” Daphne finally said, as she finished off her third - or fourth? - glass of wine. “You know who I bet is actually probably _super_ kinky?” 

Pansy raised a brow. “I shouldn’t have taught you what that word meant,” she mumbled, but sat up a little straighter. “Who? Don’t say McLaggen, we all know how poorly _that_ went…”

“No, no,” Daphne brushed her off with a shake of her hand. “Your boss.” Pansy blinked and Daphne sighed. “Percy Weasley?” she prompted.

Pansy paused for a moment, letting this sink in, and promptly burst into laughter.

After she had finally calmed down, wiping at the corners of her eyes and thanking Daphne for the much-needed comedic relief, Daphne continued.

“I mean it though, Pans. You’ve seen the way he walks. He just has that _air_ to him.”

Pansy forced herself not to laugh too loudly again, her head spinning from the wine and conversation. “Daphne, Percy Weasley is so straight laced he might as well be a ruler. I bet the man has never even done it with the lights on. He wouldn’t know what a ball gag was if it smacked him in the dick.” 

Daphne shrugged. “I’m not so sure,” she admitted, biting on her lip carefully. “Besides. Even if he wasn’t, I bet he’d be good at it. He pulls off those suits pretty well…”

“Daphne!” Pansy chastised, and the other woman shrugged and changed the topic.

Unfortunately, Pansy’s brain was not so easily swayed, and she went to bed that night curious about what he was hiding under those suits, and still trying to imagine just what he would be like in bed. 

* * *

It was almost another month before she needed more signatures. Such was the nature of her job; work hard, wait for the bureaucracy to catch up and approve, repeat. It didn’t help that the project she was working on right now (the legalities of charm-guarded floos and whether the Ministry had any right to access them in the case of an emergency) was _exceptionally_ boring.

When Pansy found herself once again in front of Percy’s office, she found a conversation with Daphne replaying in her mind. _Probably super kinky_. Pansy had to swallow another half laugh at the thought, and she shook her head quickly before knocking on the door. Unable to stop herself, she did have _some_ curiosity, she reached down to undo the top two buttons on her shirt and then lifted her hand to muss up her hair, just slightly. When Percy responded from inside, she forced another upbeat smile onto her face and headed inside.

“Good morning, Mr. Weasley!” she half-called, not even waiting for his invitation before closing the door behind herself and moving to sit down across from his desk. 

“Miss. Parkinson,” he replied, and she wondered if his voice had always sounded quite so… tired. When he looked up she scanned her eyes over his face, the bags under his eyes _did_ look a little darker than usual. Whatever he’d been reading when she walked in he had folded up rather quickly and placed close to his arm, and Pansy glanced over at it almost suspiciously. Interesting. 

“Just more documents for you to sign, Mr. Weasley,” Pansy finally said, dropping the stack onto his desk unceremoniously. Percy’s brow wrinkled into a _very_ slight frown, and then he nodded, pulling the stack a little closer towards himself.

“Right,” he agreed, and then dropped his head as he refocused in on the papers in front of him. Pansy took the opportunity to look him over again. His suit today was a nice grey tweed, and it fit him well around the shoulders and down his arms. He somehow managed to make even the vest not look _too_ ridiculous. His face was set and she once again trailed her eyes over the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Pansy couldn’t really remember him from school - he’d been a few years older and a _Weasley_ at that - but she knew that at the time he had looked lanky and awkward in his looks. Now, she could _almost_ see that perhaps he had grown into them. A bit.

Pansy waited. And waited. She watched him flex slightly once, rolling out his neck and pulling his shoulders back, but he barely paid any attention to her. Which was frustrating, because she’d worn a slightly tighter blouse than usual, and she’d gone to the trouble of undoing those buttons. She knew that at the right angle someone could see the black lace on the edge of her bra, and she’d purposefully sat at the right angle to Percy. 

And he hadn’t even _looked_.

Finally, she stood and moved her way around the desk until she was standing next to his chair. He still had barely reacted to her presence, but she noticed that his hand had twitched towards the folded up piece of parchment from earlier. The one he hadn’t wanted her to see.

Pansy couldn’t help herself. She acted almost without thinking of it, and reached out towards his desk. Her fingers had just brushed the edge of the paper when his hand shot out, his long fingers wrapping easily around her thin wrist.

“Hey-” Pansy protested, but her voice died in her throat when she met his eyes. His face was still sharp and he looked almost bored, impassive, other than his _eyes_. His blue eyes were sharp, and she could see the fire behind them, the sheer amount of passion knocked the air from her lungs. The look in his eyes combined with the tight grip on her wrist sent a bolt of electricity down her spine and she had to swallow to clear the thought from her mind.

“God,” she finally managed to force out, hating the way her voice was just slightly too breathy. “I always knew you were uptight, Weasley, but I never realized that the stick went quite so far up your ar-”

Before Pansy could finish her sentence, Percy had moved. He was out of his chair and in the space of a breath had turned them, pressing her body back against a tall filing cabinet that sat behind his desk.

Pansy was briefly aware of the handles of the cabinet pressing into her back, but all of that was crowded out with the feeling of his body pressed against hers. He was still holding her wrist with one of his hands, but the other had lifted to her face. His fingers brushed against her cheek, and his palm lay across the edge of her jaw, but it was his thumb that Pansy was focused on. His thumb, which was pressed just slightly against her neck. She swallowed hard and felt the way her throat bobbed against it and had to shut her eyes for a moment to keep from whimpering. 

“Watch your language,” Percy scolded. His voice had gone deeper, darker around the edges, with a harsh line to it that sent another shiver down his spine. “Look at you. You walk into my office like you own the place. You constantly interrupt me and waste my time. And then you come in here with your shirt so low the whole world could see your breasts. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Pansy swallowed again, taking in a ragged breath and then trying to focus her eyes on his. “I,” she breathed out, biting her lower lip as she decided if she wanted to say what her brain was prompting, tried to figure out if this was a road she wanted to walk. “I wanted… your attention,” she finally admitted, flicking her eyes down to his lips and then back to his. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a… a bad girl.”

Pansy’s words drew a noise that sounded almost like a growl from Percy’s lips. He dropped her wrist and his hand moved instead to her hip, fingers digging in against her skin in a way that she worried… that she _hoped_ might cause bruises. The thought of her skin marked from his actions caused another shiver to run down her spine and Pansy shifted against him, trying to rub her legs together slightly and relieve some of her burning need for _friction_.

Percy noticed her actions and pressed his body further against hers, pushing her more into the cabinets and more into _him_. Pansy gasped slightly at how hard he felt up against her, glad she wasn’t, for once, the only one enjoying herself. Her eyes fluttered closed again and Percy shifted slightly, his lips now so close to her ear that she could feel his hot breath against her skin. She lifted her free hand to fist around his crisp white shirt, wanting to leave a mark of her own. 

“I think you have been a bad girl,” Percy whispered against her ears, and Pansy couldn’t help herself - this time, as he pressed his thumb slightly more against her throat, she _did_ whimper. “I think you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, Miss. Parkinson. Frankly, I think someone needs to teach you a lesson about what happens to girls who don’t behave themselves.”

Pansy let out a rushed breath and tried to push herself further against him, and was met with the feeling of his fingers tightening around her hips. _Yes_ , she thought, _definitely bruises_.

“Look at me,” Percy commanded, and Pansy swallowed as she forced her eyes open. His pupils were blown with pleasure, and his bottom lip was red from where he had clearly bitten at it. She was sure she looked worse, rutting up against him and trying not to drool with thoughts of what he could do to her. His lips were only an inch away from hers, his breath hot against her skin and his eyes boring down into hers.

And then, just as Pansy was about to make a _complete_ fool of herself and _beg_ , there was a knock on Percy’s door. Percy was off her in an instant, gone in heartbeat and she was suddenly acutely aware of what had just been happening, and how empty her body felt without the weight of his against it.

“Just a minute,” Percy called to the door, and Pansy tried to swallow the lump that had risen in her throat. What had she _done_? He was her _boss_ , he was a _Weasley_. As she lifted a hand to brush over her hair quickly, smoothing down her shirt with trembling hands, her eyes drifted to the desk that he had sat back down at so quickly, and landed on the photograph of Percy and his _wife_ . He was _married_.

 “Fuck,” Pansy breathed, and took one more second to smooth down her skirt and pray she didn’t look as destroyed as she felt. Finally, she determined that she was as composed as she could ever be, and she moved back around her desk.

The door pushed open and Percy shot her a look that felt like a warning before he cleared his throat.

“Right, Miss. Parkinson,” he said, lifting up the stack of signed papers from his desk and offering them out to her. “Thank you again for your…” Percy trailed off and Pansy realized it was the first time she had ever seen him falter. “Hard work. Is that everything?” 

Pansy swallowed, glanced quickly over her shoulder to see one of the other Assistant Department Heads standing at the door with a raised eyebrow. “I- uh, that is to say, _yes_. Thank you for your...timeliness, Mr. Weasley.”

And then, she snatched the papers from his hands and ducked her head slightly, hoping she could get past the man by the door without her blush being spotted. As she reached the door, she chanced one more glance back at the desk. Percy was still sitting behind it and to anyone else he would look almost no different. But she could see the way his eyes burned, the very slight flush that dusted his cheekbones, the strain in his shoulders and neck, and the fact that one of his hands was balled in a tight fist. She had never realized before how much she wanted to undo him, or how much it would pull at her when he was finally undone.

* * *

“Daphne,” Pansy finally murmured, looking up at her best friend. “I, um. I’ve got a bit of a problem.”

Daphne raised a perfectly shaped brow, inclining her head. “I figured, when you dragged me out of my office and drank two glasses of _Bordeaux_ like they were _Riesling_. You certainly wouldn’t have done that just to rant on about portkey licensing.”

Pansy shut her eyes, and inhaled. “Right.”

“Well?” Daphne prompted, when they lapsed into silence again. Pansy sighed deeply.

“I think I, um, met someone,” she admitted, swallowing hard. “Someone who I… I think I’m attracted to. Who might actually be able to… to… meet some of my _needs_.”

Daphne nodded and lifted her glass. “Well! That’s a _good_ thing, Pansy. Isn’t that just what you wanted?”

Pansy nodded. “I think he was interested in me, as well.”

“So should this not be a time for celebration, rather than this self medication?”

“It’s just,” she paused, frowned, bit down on her lip. “He’s _married_.”

“Oh,” Daphne agreed, lowering her glass back down to the table. “Well.”

Pansy lifted a hand to rub at her face, almost laughing at the injustice of it all. “And it’s not that I actually have any, well, _moral_ reservations to sleeping with a married man. But, Daphne, I think… I think if I slept with him once, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Which would be a problem, because...?” 

“Because,” Pansy admitted, trying to force pride back into her spine, trying not to cry at the thought of it all. “Because I’m not _the other woman_ , Daphne. I don’t want to be someone’s… someone’s _mistress_. A one night stand is different,” she tried to explain, thinking back to the last time _that_ had happened. “But I’m _important_ , Daphne. I want to… to… I want more than what he could give me, knowing he’d be going home to his wife.”

The blonde across the table seemed to contemplate this a bit, letting the thought roll in her mind, trying to find loopholes or ways around it to satisfy Pansy’s needs. Finally, she sighed. “Is it someone we know? Perhaps we could break them up?”

Pansy shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “I mean, yes. I think you might know him. But… no. I can’t do that either. If he still loves her... maybe she makes him happy.”

“Well,” Daphne leaned back in her chair, clearly trying to keep a smile off her lips. “It seems he has you utterly besotted. Pansy, darling, I do believe you just said that you’d sacrifice your happiness for his.”

“Fuck,” Pansy muttered, letting her forehead drop down to the table between them. “I’m utterly fucking _fucked_.”

Daphne reached out a pale hand and patted the top of Pansy’s head in her best supportive gesture. “Unfortunately, my dear, you’re _not_. Which, I believe, is _exactly_ the problem.” 

* * *

Pansy tried to avoid him. She really did. She worked slowly on her project, delaying the inevitable act of having to go and get another signature. Every time she saw a head of red hair in the Ministry, she turned and rushed in the other direction (which was only a small problem, because there were three Weasley’s alone who worked in the building). 

That didn’t change the fact that she was now, once again, standing outside of his door. It had been _almost_ two months since the last time, and she had tried her best to forget it had happened. Tried not to think about his sharp face, or the angles of his body, the way he pressed against her and his hand against her throat.  

It didn’t work. 

This, unfortunately, was inevitable. Unless Pansy wanted to quit her job and make a run for it. She contemplated that for a moment, thought about how empty her vault was these days, and took a deep breath. Just a few signatures and she could be gone again. She hoped he did them quickly - the longer she was in his presence, the more she was worried that she’d ignore her own rule about his marriage and do something she’d regret. They’d both regret.

Finally, Pansy lifted a hand and knocked. His voice, familiar and too comfortable, invited her in and she pushed the door open, forcing it open and stepping inside. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley,” she said, forcing herself to walk towards his desk, to set the pile of papers down and hope her hand didn’t shake too hard. “Just a few signatures today.” 

Pansy watched as his spine stiffened at the sound of her voice, as one of his hands tightened into a fist as it lay on the desk. It took him longer than usual to glance up after the papers had been dropped onto whatever he was working on, and she swallowed hard as she realized his eyes looked… _hungry_.

“Miss. Parkinson.” His voice was short and clipped like usual, but it had the edge to it that had sent shivers down her spine, and it did the same now. Clearly, Pansy thought to herself bitterly, she wasn’t the only one affected.

Finally, she dropped down into the chair across from him. He was taking his time this week, she could tell he was reading the documents slower than usual and it was infuriating.

 “Could you perhaps read those a little faster,” Pansy found herself blurting out, crossing her arms petulantly across her chest. “I have work to get back to.”

Percy raised a brow but did not look up from his work, and Pansy huffed in disdain. Finally, he glanced up at her face. “I haven’t seen you recently, Miss. Parkinson. Funny, it seems that this part of the report took you longer than it usually does. Are you struggling with your work?”

Suddenly, the desire and lust that had been churning through her stomach paused long enough to allow anger to seep in. “What are you implying?” Pansy snapped, leaning forward slightly in the chair. Her shirt was buttoned up fully today, but she noticed his eyes still traced a line down across her neck and over the outline of her chest. 

“Nothing at all,” Percy replied, glancing back down at the table in front of him. 

“Because,” Pansy continued, lifting a finger to point accusingly at him. “If you’re saying that I cannot adequately perform my responsibilities, then I-”

“I was simply making a comment about your timeframe,” Percy interrupted smoothly. Pansy saw red.

“Don’t _fucking_ interrupt me when I’m-”

Finally, Percy looked up and slammed his hand down on the desk between them. The sound was quiet enough to stun Pansy into silence, and the force of it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I have _told_ you before, Miss. Parkinson, to _watch. Your. Language._ ”

Pansy would have responded, except she had glanced down to the desk where his hand now sat. 

His hand, and his finger, where his wedding ring no longer sat.

“What?” she muttered, dumbly, still staring openly down at his hand.

Percy’s anger seemed to fizzle out as well, and he flexed his fingers carefully, turning his hand over and then pulling it back in towards him. “Audrey and I were…” he trailed off, looking around the room, and then gestured lamely to nothing. “Incompatible.”

“Incompatible?” Pansy repeated, her brain slowed to a sluggish crawl at the thought of him now. Single.

Percy winced. “She… wasn’t able to provide me with what I… what I need,” he explained, and Pansy thought that this was the first time she had ever seen him stutter over his words, unable to explain what was happening with utmost clarity.

“So, you’re…”

“Separated,” Percy quickly said. “Taking some time to, ah, decide.”

A thought occurred to her and Pansy spoke, once again, without thinking. “Is this because of…” and it was her turn to gesture lamely, this time at the filing cabinet behind Percy.

“No,” Percy said, too firmly and too quickly. “This isn’t about you.”

“Oh,” Pansy murmured, not sure to be stung or relieved. They sat for a long moment in silence, each watching the other for a reaction. Pansy remembered, then, what he looked like when he was flustered. His cheeks just so slightly pink, like he was trying to stop the colour through sheer force of will and only just failing. His lip, red and bitten. And then she remembered the bruises on her hips, the shape of his fingertips clear on her skin, the sense of loss when they faded.

And she swallowed. And then she darted a tongue out across her lips, and she stood, stepping right up to his desk. “What,” she began, lifting a hand to pop open the top button of her blouse. “What do you need?”

Percy looked up at her and stifled a groan, and he shifted slightly in his seat. “I can’t have this conversation with you,” he finally said.

“And why not?” Pansy replied, her anger once again dissipating as she leaned forward, reaching a hand out to trace a finger down the side of his face. He wasn’t attractive, not really, not conventionally, but he was _stunning_ in this moment.

Percy swallowed, and she watched the force of it as he leaned back and away from her. Clearly fighting the urge to stand, to take her in his arms. “It’s too soon,” he explained, and he might as well have been saying that it was too soon to change the laws about Thestral travel. 

“When?” Pansy pushed, biting down on her lip and trying not to feel childish, wanting… _wanting_.

“Soon,” Percy said, and the promise was clear in his voice, and Pansy turned and nearly ran from the office, abandoning the paperwork on his desk and hoping he’d have the sense to have it owled over.

* * *

“What am I supposed to do?” Pansy lamented, abandoning her drink completely and slouching back in the uncomfortable pub chair. 

Daphne shrugged, a careful movement, and said nothing.

“I… I just don’t know anymore, Daphne, it just doesn’t…”

“Pansy,” Daphne finally cut in, smooth and steady. “To get this straight - the man that you are interested in, who you are _sure_ is interested in you, is single. And you’re trying to decide if you should do anything about this? Because I think there’s a simple answer.”

Pansy shook her head. “Not single, Daph. _Separated_. I just. He’s going to go back to her.”

“He hasn’t yet though, has he?” 

Pansy sighed. “No. But it’s only been a month. And he hasn’t… he hasn’t contacted me, either.”

Daphne set down the wine glass, steepling her fingers together in front of her. “I shouldn’t be the one telling you this,” she finally said. “But this is, quite frankly, getting a bit pathetic.” 

Finally, Pansy huffed and sat forward, a little closer to Daphne. “What?” 

“He’s single.” 

“I just _explained_ it to you, Daphne, he’s not-” 

“He is,” Daphne reiterated. “I processed and filed his divorce application yesterday afternoon.”

Pansy blinked, then frowned as she realized something. “I never told you who he was,” she accused.

Daphne let a grin flicker across her lips. “Of course, I’m ever so sorry. So I suppose it’s no interest to you at all that yesterday I filed the divorce application of one Percy Weasley?" 

Pansy nearly choked, her eyes growing, and she shook her head. “What?”

Daphne’s grin grew, an almost wicked little thing, and she leaned back in her own chair. “My mistake,” she demurred, and Pansy clenched her jaw as the fire in her belly roared to life again.

* * *

Pansy waited another week. It had now been more than enough time to give Percy a chance to tell her himself. It was far beyond her definition of soon - six weeks was nothing of the sort. Pansy wasn’t typically a patient person, not usually one who ever had to wait for what she wanted. And finally, finally it was too much to wait for, too much to hold in. 

And here she was, outside of his office door, hand hovering above the wood. She was carrying a stack of papers, a pretense. She’d learned that she could go directly to the Head of the Department for signatures - made up a story about not being able to catch Percy when he wasn’t in a meeting, smiled and batted her eyelids - but still. It wouldn’t do to have him think she’d come all this way _just_ for him.

Even if it were true.

Finally, she knocked, and he called her in, and she reached down to undo the top few buttons on her blouse. It had worked the first time, and Pansy was worried she would need all the help she could get. 

She shouldn’t have been worried. 

Pansy slipped in and shut the door behind her, turning to look at him only once it was firmly closed. He was standing and bent over his desk, leaning against it, his blazer draped carefully over the back of his chair. His vest was gone too, and he was wearing only a simple white button up shirt and a pair of black suspenders, his tie loosely knotted around his neck. His sleeves were rolled up to nearly his elbows, and Pansy’s first thought was that he _did_ have gorgeous forearms, despite them being covered in freckles.

It took her a moment of standing there, wondering if she’d made the right choice, before she cleared her throat. Percy lifted his head and instinctively darted his tongue out to swipe across his lips, and Pansy took the thought of satisfaction that _she_ had done that and wrapped it away carefully for later. 

“Mr. Weasley,” she finally said, stepping closer to his desk again. She’d worn one of her tighter pencil skirts, and a pair of stockings held up at her thighs with garters. She wondered if he’d appreciate the attention to detail, the black lace knickers she’d chosen, the matching bra.

He swallowed, she watched his adam’s apple bob, and nodded at her. “Miss. Parkinson,” he greeted, and his eyes burned and Pansy knew she was in trouble, the _best_ kind of it.

“I heard about your divorce,” she finally said, gathering up the courage to walk around to his side of the desk, not yet feeling like she could reach out and touch him.

“And?” Percy prompted, turning his head to look at her and lifting his brows, clearly expecting more.

“Sorry?” Pansy tried, but her voice was clearly not, and her eyes conveyed her insincerity.

Percy half laughed at this, and straightened up from the desk. “I see that you’ve gone back to dressing like a slag,” he remarked, as simply as if he were commenting on the weather. His eyes flicked down and she knew they dragged on the exposed edge of her bra, and she nearly grinned at the triumph.

Pansy glanced behind her at the desk and then reached out, sweeping her arm across it and scattering hundreds of pages of parchment to the floor. She heard a quill snap and something rolled away and under a cabinet, and she turned to face him. 

Percy’s eyes were dark and his face was set, his brow furrowed in something close to anger. “What,” he began, shifting them so that her back was to the desk and he had her caged in, “on _earth_ was that for?” 

Pansy grinned up at him, trailing her eyes over his face, lifting a hand to skim over his chest. “What the _fuck_ are you going to do about it?” 

Just like before, Percy was fast. He spun Pansy and pressed, bending her down over the desk, his body up against her back. One of his hands found her hip, settling comfortably in the same position as last time, as though she were made for his hands. The other trailed up and rested almost casually on her chest, just the tips of his fingers and thumb pressing gently into the side of her throat. Pansy let out a breath and shivered slightly at the feel of him as he leant over her body, pressing her into the desk, until his lips were up against the shell of her ear.

“First,” he began, sounding like he was giving an business presentation - if it weren’t for the husk to the edge of his voice - “I’m going to redden that pretty ass of yours. Clearly no one has taught you any manners whatsoever, and I suppose I will have to take on the job myself.”

Pansy wiggled slightly against him in assent, she was already soaking through her underwear and she grinned slightly as her actions caused his voice to stutter slightly over the words. Her arms were against her side, hands down by the edge of the desk, and she curled her fingers around it for support.

“And then,” he continued, tightening his hand against her neck just slightly and causing her to whimper again. “Then, I’m going to tie you up and _fuck_ you so hard you can’t think straight,” Percy paused, clearly satisfied with this plan. “Well?” he prompted, thrusting shallowly against her and tightening his grip on her hip.

Pansy was melting- she was sure of it. No one had ever made her feel this way before and she had to take a breath, center her thoughts before she could speak. “ _Yes_ ,” she hissed out, tilting her head back slightly, giving him fuller access to her throat.

Percy worked quickly - _efficiently_ , she thought, as he slid her skirt up. He hummed in appreciation and traced a finger along the edge of her garter, dragging it up her thigh to the edge of black lace resting against her skin. Pansy tried not to shiver under his touch, and then she glanced up at the door and looked back at him.

“The door-” she said quickly, but Percy just looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I suppose you’ll just have to be quiet then, won’t you, Miss. Parkinson? We wouldn’t want someone to walk in, would we? Stay still, and be quiet - do you think you can do that?” 

Pansy bit down on her lip and then nodded at the challenge, shifting to get slightly more comfortable as he hooked a long finger through her underwear and tugged them down. She stepped up so that he could pull them off and had just closed her eyes, bracing herself, when she felt something against her lips. 

“Here,” he offered casually, pushing gently but insistently until she opened her mouth. He slid the black lace into her mouth and she opened her eyes and turned her head so that she could see him. His expression was his usual stoic almost indifference, but she could see that his eyes were dancing and he was straining against his trousers. “Those should help.” Percy paused, and Pansy could tell he was contemplating something. “If you need me to stop, the word is Quidditch. Do you understand?”

Pansy glanced up at him, tracing his face with her eyes, and she nodded firmly, managing to mutter out a “yes” despite the fabric in her mouth. Percy looked down at her, similarly appraising, and then he too nodded in response. 

Then, without warning, he drew back his hand and brought it down against her backside, and Pansy almost shouted at the unexpectedness of it. She managed instead to swallow down the noise and shut her eyes against the stinging pain. The fingers that had never left her hip tightened a little in a way that she was starting to find reassuring.

“I think ten shall do for today,” Percy was speaking not entirely to her, but Pansy appreciated it nonetheless. His hand was rubbing against her almost absentmindedly, soothing her skin, and just as soon as she found herself lulled into complacency again, he pulled his hand back and brought it down against her once more. 

Percy continued like this, alternating his strength and the timing between his spanks. Pansy never knew quite what was coming next, but by the time he’d done ten her skin was on fire and she was whimpering quietly around her makeshift gag, face pressed against the desk. Percy was clearly pleased with his handiwork, still smoothing his hand across her skin. “A shame I don’t have my belt today,” he spoke, and Pansy swallowed at the thought of it. “But I’m sure you’ll need to be taught another lesson again sooner rather than later.”

Pansy felt his fingers against her cheek and she fought the urge to nuzzle into them, her mind already going blissfully quiet. He slipped two of them into her mouth and tugged out her underwear, and she thought she saw out of the corner of her eye him slide them down into his trousers pocket. “Tell me,” Percy spoke, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind one of her ears. “Did you like that, Miss. Parkinson?”

She swallowed and shuddered slightly - his tweed trousers were brushing against her sore skin and the feeling was delicious and sinful, and she fought herself from grinding back against him. “Y-yes,” Pansy managed to breathe out, licking her lips quickly.

“Yes what?” Percy prompted, his face stern and sharp and his eyes careful and calculating. She wondered how she had never noticed before, how she had never seen it in him. It was so obvious now, the way the title settled on his shoulders and radiated out and away from him.

“Yes, Sir,” Pansy completed with a breathy sigh at the way it sounded on her lips.

“Very good,” Percy mumbled, and his fingers moved off her face and back down to her sore skin. And then, once again suddenly in Pansy’s now sluggish mind, he brushed them between her legs and she nearly shouted at the feeling.

“Pansy,” she managed to say, quickly. She wanted to hear him use her name, and Percy seemed spurred on by this.

“Pretty Pansy,” he purred, sliding his fingers over her and drawing out more gasps and quiet whimpers from her lips. “You look positively lewd, bent over my desk like this. You’re _dripping_ wet, pretty Pansy.” Pansy knew he was right - she could feel her face burning with colour from the thought of what they were doing, redder still from being pressed down into the wood of his desk. Her hair was a mess, and she was not entirely certain she didn’t have saliva trailed down her face. Her entire body was _screaming_ for him, and she was momentarily quite glad that they worked somewhere so boring they were not likely to be interrupted again.

Percy tsk’d at her a little and without warning slid two fingers into her, and she almost felt him trying to restrain his own groan as she moaned into the wood beneath her. “Naughty girl, that was supposed to be a punishment,” he murmured, quirking his fingers and brushing over something that caused her to whimper again and push back against his hand. 

“Now,” he continued, sliding his fingers out of her and then brushing one experimentally over her clit, sending another shudder through her body, “I believe that there was something else I was planning to do with you, hm? Do you remember what that was?”

Pansy nodded, her face sliding against the wood, and tried to collect her thoughts - a useless endeavour at this point. “You… you said you were going to… um…” Pansy trailed off, remembering his sternness about swearing.

Percy preened slightly, the edges of his lips tugging upwards. “It’s alright, I’m quite alright with you talking about fucking, as long as the word is appropriate for the situation.”

It was _almost_ the most uptight thing she’d ever heard, and yet instead of being frustrated or annoyed by it, it made Pansy’s stomach clench in want. So uptight, and yet she could see him coming unwound - his pupils, the now discarded tie lying over the arm of his chair, he was even removing his suspenders as she watched. 

Swallowing, she continued. “You said you were going to fuck me until… until I can’t think straight,” Pansy finally managed to get out, her eyes half-lidded at the thought of it. Then, she managed her own grin as she looked back at him. “ _Sir_.”

Percy might have shuddered as well - though it was hard to tell from her present angle - and Pansy felt a rush of satisfaction at knowing she was having such a similar affect on him as he was on her. 

“Get up,” Percy ordered, and Pansy scrambled to push herself off the desk. She was still wearing her heels and her legs were weak and she faltered, just a little, but Percy caught her before she tripped or fell. They stood for a minute, his arms holding her up and her body pressed up against his, and Pansy relished in the closeness of their bodies.

Percy shifted a hand and began to undo the buttons that trailed down the front of her blouse, and she managed to stop one of her hands from shaking long enough to remove his as well. He reached around and unzipped her skirt, and Pansy stepped out of it, left only in her bra and stockings. Percy skimmed his eyes over her and then looked back up to her face. 

“You’re beautiful, did you know that?” He murmured, and Pansy skimmed her fingertips over his chest in response.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she teased, and Percy let out a short laugh before turning them and nearly slamming her against the filing cabinet. Even the feeling of the metal against her skin made Pansy shiver, remembering that this damn filing cabinet was what got them into this in the first place.

Percy was skimming his eyes over his body, taking in the way the black lace of her bra matched her garters, and he licked his lips as he watched the way she squirmed under his gaze. “Hands,” he demanded, and Pansy quickly placed both of her small hands in his bigger ones. He lifted them up and placed them on a drawer handle above her head - just uncomfortably high enough that she had to stretch very slightly to reach it, even though she was still in her heels. “Hold this,” he said, and Pansy wrapped her fingers around the metal handle. Percy turned away from her for a moment and when he returned, he was holding his previously discarded suspenders. He flicked his wand at the cabinet, presumably to keep the drawers locked, and then he set his wand down carefully and began to work.

Pansy couldn’t really see what he was doing, and so instead she focused on staying still, and on the way his skin smelled as he moved in front of her. She could feel the suspenders wrapping around her wrists, tight enough that she couldn’t move but not so tight as to cut off the circulation. The elastic offered her just a bit of give, but her body still felt pulled tight. She felt helpless, but she also felt _safe_.

When Percy finally stepped back to inspect his handiwork, Pansy was dripping down her thighs, squirming just slightly, desperate for _something._  

“Beautiful,” he repeated, and Pansy whimpered, desperate to regain his attention, no matter what the consequences would be. “Tied up and dripping, just for me,” Percy continued, and Pansy nodded fervently. 

“All for you, Sir,” she purred, though she suspected her voice was slightly too desperate to sound as seductive as she intended. His lips twitched, though, and she considered that a victory.

Percy closed the distance between them, his hands falling so easily back to where they had been what now felt like a lifetime ago, one on her hip and the other along her face, thumb resting on her throat. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was pounding, wondered as she stared into his blue eyes if this time, _finally_ , she would get her kiss.

She did. 

Percy’s lips pressed down onto hers and Pansy, once again, nearly melted at the touch. His lips were soft, but the kiss was firm and demanding and his hand slid down to rest entirely across her throat as he pressed his body more fully into hers. She was sure she was going to soak the front of his trousers and she didn’t care, so lost in the way he tasted just slightly like peppermint, the way his scent surrounded her and his body pressed into her.

It was over too soon, even though by the way his lips looked Pansy assumed they must have been kissing longer than she had realized. His eyes were half lidded and his breath was heavy as he pulled back, and Pansy had to swallow more than once to try and clear her throat.

His lips took over where his hand had been, kissing down her neck, nipping at the skin as he went. He alternated as he kissed a path down to her breasts, and he lathed a tongue over her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. Pansy whimpered and arched her back against him and he shook his head. “This is in my way,” he remarked, and then his wand was back in his hand and her bra was falling off of her in shreds.

“That was expensive,” Pansy managed to murmur, and she was met with his teeth biting down on one of her nipples until she let out a soft cry. He kissed her skin softly and repeated himself on the other side, and Pansy had the distant thought that this was the way to madness.

“Please,” she finally whimpered, her voice breaking on the word, “please, Sir, please, I-” 

“Use your words,” Percy commanded, dropping down to his knees and letting his eyes skim over her from his new vantage point. 

“I need… I need…” Pansy tried again, and he cut her off by brushing his tongue experimentally across her clit. She had to close her mouth to stop from crying out and she pulled against the suspenders holding her up. Her legs were shaking and she knew she was _so close_ , so close to the edge if only he would just-

Percy was standing up again and Pansy did let out a small cry this time. “Next time, I think,” Percy decided, and Pansy shook slightly against him, desperate for release, for _something_. “You taste delicious, and I’d like to spend more time eating your pretty pussy. Would you like that?”

Pansy had to concede and nod against his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath to steady herself.

“I wonder how many times I could make you come against my tongue?” Percy mused, and Pansy swallowed another sob. 

“ _Please_ ,” she tried again, and Percy leaned back to look in her eyes. “Please, Sir, please, I need you to fuck me,” Pansy hoped she didn’t sound to incoherent, hated that she was begging, loved the way it lit his eyes up. “I… I want to feel you inside me, _please_ ,” she pressed. 

“Well,” Percy said, reaching down to unbutton his pants and slide down the zipper. “I really should oblige, since you asked so nicely. See how far you can get with good manners?” he chided, and Pansy nodded, grateful that they were moving forward, that she wouldn’t have to wait.

 His cock sprung from his trousers, red and leaking and _hard_. Pansy didn’t have the best view from the angle they were standing at, but she couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight of it. Percy grinned in a way that was nearly feral.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’ll let you taste it soon enough,” he promised, and then lifted a hand to tilt Pansy’s chin up, looking into her eyes.

Pansy swallowed at how earnest he looked, for a second, at the reminder that they were doing something irreversible, that they were still coworkers when this was over, still just two people who had baggage and problems to attend to. She looked at him and couldn’t help but smile, pulled just briefly from the bubble they had built for themselves. Percy, searching her eyes, returned her smile with a tentative one of his own.

And then it was gone, and he was reaching his hands down to pick up her legs, wrapping them around his waist. Pansy whimpered at the relief from standing on her tired feet, and then her entire focus was shifted down to the feel of him brushing against her entrance.

Percy’s fingers were digging into her hips again, her back pressed uncomfortably against the jutting metal handles of the filing cabinet. The tweed of his trousers was brushing slightly against her now bruising backside and Pansy was so overstimulated she wasn’t sure if she was even alive anymore. And then, his hand returned to her chin, forced her eyes into his, and in one smooth thrust he was fully inside her, swallowing the moan that tumbled from her lips with his own. 

Pansy tightened her grip on the handle of the cabinet above her, all thoughts of anything else blown from her mind by the feeling of him brushing inside her. He slid nearly all the way out and pushed back in with a practiced ease, and then picked up a relentless rhythm, long deep strokes that seemed to push against everything she needed. 

Percy’s own breathing was deepening, his lips breaking from hers as he rested their foreheads against each others, looking into her eyes as he thrust into her. Pansy was whimpering almost nonstop, and when Percy dropped a hand down to tweak roughly at one of her nipples she let out a scream that Percy muffled quickly by cupping his other hand over her mouth.

“What did I tell you,” Percy growled, punctuating each word with a particularly hard thrust. “About being quiet?”

“I’m,” Pansy choked out, shutting her eyes and swallowing hard. “I’m sorry Sir, I just, you just make me,” she keened off as he repeated the action with her other nipple and tried harder to arch her back against him.

“You’re such a naughty girl,” Percy continued, moving to mumble against her ear, his pace picking up just slightly. “Falling apart all around me,” he continued, now rolling one of her nipples between his fingers. “No idea how to follow orders, hm, pretty Pansy? I can see that I’m going to have many more lessons to teach you.”

Pansy shuddered hard at this thought, she could feel herself careening towards destruction and she clamped down on her muscles, hoping to pull him along with her. Her legs were still wrapped tightly around his waist and she tried to pull him against her even harder with her feet. Percy was picking up speed still, and he slid the hand that had been on her mouth up into her hair, wrapping it around his fingers and pulling. 

“I think I’ll have to be very creative about your punishments, darling,” Percy murmured, nipping lightly on her earlobe. “Perhaps I’ll tie you up and tease your cunt for hours, hm?” He suggested, grinning against her skin at the way his words made her whimper. “I’ll buy you some toys, and see how well you can work with a vibrator strapped to your body and a plug inside that beautiful arse of yours.”

Percy was moving even faster now, slamming into her body with almost reckless abandon. She could tell he was close, his hand in her hair was tightening and she was tipping her head back, offering up her neck, wanting his lips and teeth on her skin. “Maybe,” Percy tried, dropping his head down to the skin she offered, dragging his teeth against it. “Maybe I’ll charm a ruler to spank your behind while I fuck your face,” he drawled, and Pansy let out a noise she wasn’t aware she could even make.

“S-s-Sir,” she stuttered, her voice and breath betraying her as her abdomen started to clench. “I’m gon… gonna, I’m... _please_ ,” she begged.

Percy grinned against her skin, and bit down on the skin that joined her shoulder to her neck just as he dropped his hand down to circle his thumb roughly over her clit. A few more incredibly well timed thrusts and all of a sudden Pansy couldn’t help herself - she threw her head back and _screamed_ as her entire body seemed to explode from within, as her vision went white and her back bowed and Percy thrust up roughly one more time and then moaned deeply into her neck.

They stood for another moment, each breathing deeply against the other, before Percy slid slowly from her body. He reached up and made quick work of the makeshift restraints, and Pansy dropped her arms around his neck as she let go of the cabinet. Percy held her and sank down to the floor, leaning back against the cabinet and pulling her small body into his, letting her curl up against him and tuck her head into his neck.

Her entire body ached in the most _delicious_ way and Percy rubbed small circles over her back as he kissed her forehead.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” Percy mumbled into her ear, “did such a good job for me. So proud of you.” Pansy sighed contentedly against him, twisting her body even closer to his. “Pansy?” he prompted, and she looked up at him. When he caught her eyes, his face one more cracked into a slow, careful smile. This was different, than the almost-evil grins from the past few hours, different than his mocking ‘you insult me’ smirk. This was sweet, and _loving_ , and Pansy’s heart warmed at the sight of it. “Thank you,” he whispered, and leaned in to catch her lips in a sweet kiss.

Pansy shook her head softly, and tried to stifle a yawn. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, voice already heavy with tiredness. “That I screamed,” she clarified, and Percy laughed.

“I silenced the room before I tied you up,” he admitted, and she laughed sweetly against his neck. “I was hoping I could make you scream.”

Pansy nodded in understanding and sighed again, closing her eyes carefully.

“You’ll just have to do better next time,” he said with a poorly-faked disappointed sigh. Pansy couldn’t help her grin this time, not matter how hard she tried.

“I’ll try, Sir." 

* * *

 “Well,” Daphne said, as Pansy dropped down into the chair across from her at their typical table. “So nice of you to finally grace me with your presence.”

Pansy shrugged off the sarcasm in Daphne’s tone. “I was working,” she said, with almost no effort behind the clear lie.

“Hmm,” Daphne agreed, scanning her eyes over the woman. She had never seen Pansy look so good. It had been six months since Percy Weasley’s divorce papers slid across her desk, and many things had changed. First being, of course, Daphne’s job at the Ministry - she had finally found someone interested in her work, and left that hellhole.

But, primarily, Pansy. Her cheeks seemed to be almost ever-flushed now, and her smiles came much more easily than they ever had. She drank less, and daydreamed more, and once Daphne had been almost sure that the woman was _humming_.

Yes. Love was a powerful drug. And it seemed like, finally, Pansy had found a good supply. 

“Does he treat you well?” Daphne said, and Pansy’s eyes grew just slightly. No one knew about their relationship - other than Daphne, of course, who knew everything. It made sense, really. Percy hadn’t been apart from his wife for _that_ long, and the timeline itself was suspicious. Pansy was guarded, especially with the things she truly loved, and Daphne suspected Percy’s family would be none too happy.

“You know,” Daphne continued, as though she were unaware of the slightly panicked look in Pansy’s eyes. “I suppose the two of you think you’re being _subtle_ ,” she continued, and let her eyes meaningfully drift to Pansy’s neck.

Percy had given it to her that afternoon, wrapped his hands around her neck and kissed her deeply, and said, “even if no one knows it, now I know you’re _mine_. All mine.”

Her hand shot up to the thin dark red leather band that wrapped almost tightly around her neck, held at the front by a piece of metal shaped like a heart. Percy had fastened it and then tapped it with his wand, and the clasp at the back had sunk into nothingness. She was _his_ , but he - sporting a small inked white and green pansy high on the inside of his forearm - he was hers, as well.

Daphne was almost laughing now, watching the way Pansy fingered the cool metal.

“Well,” Pansy said, finally, eyes flicking up and over her friend’s face. “I do love to prove you right,” she teased.

Daphne, grinning widely as she took another sip of her wine, nodded. “And I, my dear, love to see you glow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't have anything to say for myself, other than that I kind of fell down a Percy/Pansy rabbithole and this was my pathetic attempt to crawl back out.
> 
> Except, you know, I'm SUPER extra and so that means 10,000 words of filthy smut I'm so sorry?
> 
> Anyways, hope you all enjoyed this wild ride! ;)
> 
> (Special thanks to nymphadoraholtzmann who beta'd this for me, while riding public transit, no less!)


End file.
